Wings Don't Make the Angel
by Supernatural on Graph Paper
Summary: Some people are born with wings. They're captured and put on show for those who are wingless. These "Angels" have no freedom. Except for one, Gabriel, none of them have ever known freedom. Gabriel's given up on getting his freedom back, until a man named Sam gives him a second chance. Sabriel, side-Destiel
1. Behind These Bars

**Hey, people of fanfiction! This is my first multi-chapter fanfiction, and it's Sabriel. **

**I have no idea what I'm doing... so be nice in your reviews. **

**Also, I don't own Supernatural. BTdubs.**

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The catchers took everything from me. Even my name. They took away my real name and gave me the name of an angel, just for kicks. They put a collar on me so I couldn't retract my wings in protest. I had no freedom, I had no name, and I seemed to be the only one in the Garrison who gave a damn about it all.

Before I continue, let me say a few things. One: I am not an angel. I just have wings. Two: My name is Loki, not Gabriel, and anyone who calls me Gabriel loses all the respect I might give them. Three: I hate being confined. Four: Before the catchers caught me, I was a trickster. I screwed around with people for the fun of it, and even though my pranks got me into some serious shit a few times, I'd rather be a trickster than an "Angel."

But I can't. No "Angel" has ever escaped the Garrison, the freak show we're all forced to perform in. None of them seem like they want to, which doesn't make sense to me. Life here sucks. The catchers are sadists, assholes, douchebags that I'd gladly send to hell if I could. The other angels don't seem to get it. It's almost like they enjoy being shoved around.

I don't enjoy it. I've had a problem with the catchers for the past two years that I've been stuck in the Garrison. I've been trying to get out since I got in, and I have yet to be successful. Obviously.

It's morning again, and I have a showing again, which means that the catchers are going to clean me. Their form of cleaning is pressure-washing the shit out of me with boiling hot water until all the dirt the catchers have kicked up on me is gone. There is no privacy, just five or six catchers laughing as one of them attacks my body and wings with hell-water.

When they come for me, they nearly rip my arms out of their sockets as they drag me out behind the pens we're kept in. I growl, struggling and swishing my wings in their faces. One of the catchers grabs my wings and binds them back so I can't fight as much as I want to. I'm the "problem child" of the Garrison, because I'm the only one with a free background. All the other "Angels" were bred here. They don't know what they're missing.

There's not a way out of this, I know that, but it doesn't stop me from fighting. I can't stop fighting. If I stop, I become one of the "Angels," one of the mindless winged people that let the catchers push them around. As long as I keep resisting, I don't lose this battle.

They strip me and shove me into the center of their circle. One catcher pulls out the hose and turns on the water. It pounds into me, burning into my skin and pushing me back into the wall. I cough out some of the water, gripping into the ground with my toes and pushing off the wall. The water is ripping through my wings, scorching the tender flesh beneath my feathers. The feathers on the edges are ripped off by the constant stream (more like sideways downpour) of water, clumping together before falling off with a plunk when they hit the concrete floor. When the catcher finally cuts off the water, my skin is raw and red from the steaming water, my wings are limp and tan instead of their natural gold, and I'm still coughing up water.

Next is the drying. All six catchers step back and the ceiling turns of, air rushing out. The air is freezing as it usually is, but in a weird way, the air feels sort of refreshing. But after a few minutes, I'm shivering, gritting my teeth, to keep myself upright.

Just when I think that the pressurized air is going to win and I'm going to collapse, it shuts off and a ridiculous costume is thrown at my head. I glare at the catcher who threw it at me. "Where the hell are my real clothes, douche-nozzle?"

"Shut up and put on the costume." He hisses and presses a button that sends an electric shock through the collar around my neck. Despite the pain, and knowing I'll get another shock for this, I flick him off. After the second shock wears off, I actually put the damn costume on.

I'm not going to bother to try and describe it. Just know that it's ugly and I hate it.

An hour later, I'm behind a female "Angel" with light pink wings, waiting to get on stage and put on my show. While I wait for my turn on the freak stage, I decide to search the crowds, see what kind of sick fucks have decided to promote slavery today. Because that's what the Garrison is. Slavery.

Two guys, probably both twenty-something, catch my eye. The one with the shorter hair is watching Castiel's act, while the other one is watching me. I don't know why he's bothering to pay attention to me. I'm doing nothing right now, and I'm not even next in line. I look away from the man, trying to focus on Castiel, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I curl my wings around myself, trying to hide away from curious hazel eyes. Not that concealing myself will keep him from watching me, but hey, I've never really paid attention to logic. Why start now?

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**Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me how to improve (because critisms are always nice.)**

**-Tammy**


	2. Hands of an Angel

**Thanks for the feedback, Purpura Avis, Soulless666, haizegato, Anonymous568, and Hawkeyefan1131! Tis very much appreciated.**

**Anonymous568: Gabriel's an angel in canon (he's just pretending to be a Trickster), so I nade him an angel in here too. That, and I just like wings.**

**Anyway, now onto the next chapter. Enjoy!**

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Dean had an obsession (read: awkward crush) on one of the Angels, so he's always dragging me out to the Angel shows whenever they're in the same town we're in. I join him only because there isn't much to do back at the motel room. My brother and I have been on the run ever since I was twelve, ever since our parents were killed by the catchers. Our parents freed Angels, but they were hunted down by the catchers when the catchers got popular.

They'd went down fighting, to try and protect Dean and I. Our father's dying words had been to Dean; he told Dean to take me and run. To run and never look back, and to stay away from catchers for as long as we could.

We were doing a great job at that, seeing as we were currently at an Angel show.

I was only half paying attention to the dark-haired Angel with the smoky grey wings (which was Dean's favourite) when I noticed another Angel with gold wings in the background. He was scowling, looking like he'd rather be anywhere than where he was now. I'd never seen an Angel act like that before, and I thought that he must have been born free. Angels that were born free didn't adapt to the catcher's life. I knew that from my parents.

The Angel noticed me staring, and for a second, we just held each other's gaze. But then he folded his wings around himself, and I frown. This guy's miserable.

Once Dean's angel leaves and the next one gets on the stage, I nudge my brother. "Dean, look at that one."

"The one with the gold wings?" Dean looks over to the Angel I'm pointing at, and I nod. "Yeah, him. He doesn't act like the others… do you think… maybe…?"

"Maybe what?" Dean looks at me as though he's expecting more, but I can't really explain the Angel's situation, not with all these people. Dean shrugs and goes back to watching his Angel, who is standing in the other corner of the arena, dark wings flexed out. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. "Dean, what if he's not happy with how his life is?"

"Are you suggesting that we do exactly what Mom and Dad told us _not to do_ before they died?" Dean turns on me. We both know that getting involved with the Angels and catchers is a bad idea. We both know that it's dangerous, and that if we do this, we'll probably end up dead, too. But I want to help them. Someone has to, might as well be Dean and me. So I nod to Dean. "Yeah, Dean, I am. We won't free all of them… but we'll start somewhere… maybe with the golden-winged one and your angel…"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, Castiel. We'll take them somewhere better, Dean. No one should have to be caged up like this." I had made up my mind. Sure, this would be dangerous, but I felt like I had to save those Angels. They were humans (kind of, I mean, humans don't have wings), and they didn't deserve to be in a freak show. Whether Dean agreed to help me or not didn't matter. I had to do this.

"Sam, you're insane but I'm in." Dean grinned.

"Good." Maybe this was dangerous and way above our level, but Dean and I had been chasing danger most of our lives. This was our kind of fun.

We stayed through the Gold-winged Angel's performance, and I learned that his name was Gabriel. Once his act was done, though, Dean and I exited through a side exit, and went back to our motel room to plan out how we were going to do this.

"Dammit, Sam, this had better work." Dean hisses as he opens the back door with a lockpick. I'm hoping we get through this without getting caught while Dean and I maneuver through the cages, searching for Gabriel and Dean's Angel, Castiel. After a few minutes, I tell Dean that I'm going to go look on my own, and that I'll meet him back at the Impala. Dean nods and I go down another row.

Three turns later, and I see familiar golden wings. I walk up and tap the edge of the cage with my knuckles. "Hey, Gabriel?"

The wings part and I'm greeted with an angry Angel. I'm reminded of just how different Gabriel is; he's not submissive or terrified at all. Those gold eyes are filled with ideas of possible retorts to throw back at me. I smile softly and lower my gun. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise."

"Yeah right, kiddo. I've been here long enough to know that you're all a bunch of ass-hats." He says. "And my name's not Gabriel, anyway."

"It's not? Then why do they call you Gabriel?" I'm paying attention to him, I really am, but at the same time, I'm picking the lock to his cage so that I can get him out, get him to somewhere safe.

"Because they want to make me seem like an Angel." He laughs, and it's hollow. I feel a pang of guilt, because Dean and I ran away from the Angels when we should have been trying to save them. "I'm sorry. My parents… they used to do this, but when they died… they told my brother and I to stay away from you guys, and we did."

"And so you're coming into the catcher's territory, against your parents last wills, to save _me_?" The winged man raises an eyebrow, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. "Wow. You're all kinds of stupid."

"This kind of stupid is saving your ass, whoever you are."

"Loki, but I'll respond to anything other than Gabriel. Honest." He raises three fingers, "Scout's honour," and stands up as I enter the cage. He's chained back, and there's a harness wrapped around the base of his wings. I guess that's what keeps the Angels' wings from being able to contract back into their bodies. I walk behind him and snap the chains.

"So, Sam, where's this brother you speak of?" Loki folds his arms over his torso and flares his wings out, blocking me from getting past him. Not that I'd leave without him. I shrug. "Somewhere in here. He's getting out his favourite… Castiel, I think."

"So… this your first time?"

"Yeah, you and Castiel are our firsts." I pull out what's needed to free Loki from his harness, but as soon as I get close enough to touch him, he backs away. I sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"

"Well, _sorry_ for mot putting blind faith in a stranger." He flaps his wings, agitated. I step towards him again. "Loki, all I'm going to do is take the harness off so we can get out of here easier. I'm only freeing you. Promise."

His eyes are focused on the tools in my hand. "Why do you have to take it off now? Can't it wait?"

"Do you want to keep it on?" Part of me thinks that he's afraid that I'm freeing him just to enslave him somewhere else. I reach out with an empty hand, and he lets me touch his shoulder, even though he tenses up when I do. "You'll be free once I get it off. You don't even have to come back with my brother and me."

After a few moments of hesitation, Loki nods, and I get to work on the harness, pulling at various parts so that it won't hurt either of us with whatever defense mechanisms the catchers have put in it. After a few choice words and a set of sparks, the harness goes limp and Loki relaxes while I slide it off of his shoulders and wings.

I drop the harness on the ground and Loki curls his wings back so that they disappear. "Now what, Samsquatch?"

"We leave and go back to the car." I led the way, one hand on my weapon in case of attack. There were none, and so Loki and I got back to the Impala to find Dean and his Angel already waiting inside of it. The dark-haired Angel was sitting in the front seat, where I usually sit. Loki slid into the back, but I leaned over the driver's seat window. "Dean, why's the Angel in the front seat?"

"Because he got here first." Dean says. "Just get in the back seat with Gabriel."

I roll my eyes, but get in behind my brother anyway. I glance at Loki, who is looking pissed off, again. I raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"I hate being called Gabriel." He mutters, only loud enough for me to hear because I'm right next to him. He's hunched over, and even though his wings are now hidden away, I can still imagine them being splayed out casually behind him.

He notices that I'm looking behind him, and waves a hand at my face. "Hey, Samsquatch, you still here?"

"Yeah. Do you want anything?" Random question, but it just occurred to me that the catchers probably didn't feed the Angels very well. Loki leaned back in the seat. "What, like… food-wise?"

I nod, and he grins like I just gave him everything he ever wanted. "Well then, I'd kill for some pancakes."

"IHOP coming up." Dean comments from the front seat. Beside him, Castiel tilts his head to the side. "I have never been to an IHOP."

"Then you've obviously never lived." Loki reaches forward and pets Castiel on the head, blatantly ignoring Dean's glare as he does so. _Jealous, much?_ Not that Loki is actually flirting with Dean's Angel (I don't think so, at least) but it's still amusing. Loki stops petting Castiel and leans back, crossing his arms. "I say we fix that. Besides, I'm starving."

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**And that is all. **

**Also, I want pancakes.**

**Please review, danke.**


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